


Serpent in the Sand

by Morvidra



Series: Trio for Strings [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Jewish Scripture & Legend
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Family Drama, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22860265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvidra/pseuds/Morvidra
Summary: Crowley's temptation has backfired, big time. Now he's stuck unless some help comes from an unexpected source.
Series: Trio for Strings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643326
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11
Collections: Purimgifts 2020





	Serpent in the Sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [opalmatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/gifts).



“Do you think they will reach agreement before we become dust in the sands?”

It was a woman’s voice, disrupting Crowley’s spiral of gloom. She was sitting next to him, and Crowley wasn’t sure when she had arrived. He couldn’t think of her name for the moment.

“You look sad, serpent,” she said, glancing at him.

“How long can it take to make one decision?”

“My grandfather has believed his son Yosep to be dead these many years,” she rebuked him gently. He had her placed now: she was Asher’s daughter, the adopted one who had come with her mother’s remarriage. “Now my uncles must reveal that he lives; that he thrives; that he sends many handsome gifts and begs for us all to journey into Egypt to greet him once more.”

“Well then, maybe they should – wild thought here – just tell him?” Crowley suggested.

Asher’s daughter shrugged. “My grandfather is old, and a heavy cloud has lain upon him ever since I have known him. Perhaps hearing of this miracle will renew the strength of his youth in him. Or perhaps, it will cause his soul to fly from his body. Who can say which?”

She rose, shaking the dust from her skirts. “For your sake, serpent, I will pray for a speedy resolution to the debate. I go now to play music to my grandfather, to ease his mind and his heart.”

“I wish,” Crowley said bitterly, “that they would all stop saying _what if, what if_.”

She smiled, a lopsided expression that crinkled her face and gave an uncanny impression of what she might look like in old age. “My father and my uncles have a sorry history of acting before thinking. For myself, I am pleased to see them talking matters through for a change.”

Crowley sank back into his bleak thoughts, watching the argument.

This had not been one of his better schemes.

He was prepared to admit that to himself, at any rate. He might even have admitted it to Aziraphale, had the angel been anywhere near.

Well. Eventually.

Crowley hadn’t seen his counterpart since that business with Yosep’s brothers, which hadn’t been his fault, honestly. Yes, over a few cups of date wine he’d encouraged them to act on their jealousy, but he’d meant ‘accidentally’ spilling stew on his coat, not fratricide!

It had actually been a very lucky thing Aziraphale was there to help with that mess, not that Crowley had told him so at the time. Not when the angel had been busy hurling imprecations. And _he’d_ said things back.

And then Aziraphale had gone off to Egypt.

Twenty years ago.

Crowley hadn’t missed him, of course. He’d kept himself busy, temptations and suchlike. His employers had been so pleased about the attempted fratricide business1 that Crowley had felt well able to take it easy for a few decades.

And if the loss of Yosep had caused Ya’akov to go into a depressive decline, weakening his prayers, and stripping him of his joy in G-… someone… Well, Crowley was glad of it. He was a demon, after all. Of course he was glad.

Only then the famine had come.

Crowley hadn’t seen it coming. The fruits of the land had been abundant for many years and Ya’akov’s family had prospered with the land. At the height of the good years, the old man’s descendants had numbered a full hundred and another score, all strong and healthy.

And now, after seven years of famine…

After years of Crowley’s begging and pleading and cursing and… not praying (he was a demon, demons don’t pray) (but the curses he hurled at the skies had circled the world to approach praying from the other side)…

There were only seventy left.

And now Ya’akov’s sons sat around the fire arguing and it made Crowley want to scream, because there was no angel to help, and he couldn’t save them, and if they would only _do something_.

The fire crackled low; was built up and fell again. The voices of men ebbed and flowed; a wild ox lowed distantly, and a nearby lyre echoed its sound.

He was dreaming, he thought, when the voice joined the instrument. A simple rhyme, set to a simple tune, such as a mother might hum to her child:

_Yusuf lies not in the desert sand,_

_But thrives with his sons in Egypt’s land._

And as the dawn filled the sky, a cry of joy and wonder arose from the patriarch’s tent, and Ya’akov emerged with his arms flung wide to the heavens.

“My son is alive!” he cried. “Yosep my son yet lives!”

And as the sons of Ya’akov rushed to their father, Crowley saw Asher’s daughter slip silently from the tent to stand at her grandfather’s elbow.

“You sneaky, cunning…!” he said aloud in pure admiration.

“This word has come to me from Serach bat Asher, may her name be known for virtue,” Ya’akov proclaimed in exultation. “O, forever blessed shall be the mouth that has told me this news; this mouth shall never taste death!”

As Yosep’s many gifts were brought forth and laid before Ya’akov, Crowley slipped through the crowd to the spot where Serach had modestly retired.

“Cleverly done,” he said.

Serach tipped her head in acknowledgement. “With the return of his happiness and strength of body, my grandfather is restored also to his strength of faith. I fear I have served you ill, serpent.” She didn’t sound worried.

Crowley shrugged. “Eh, I’ll slant it in the report. Anyway, it’s time I was moving on. Egypt isn’t exactly… well, I’m bound elsewhere.”

Serach smiled her strange smile. “I would wish you safe travels, but that seems redundant. But I will pray for you.”

“Please don’t,” Crowley said, wincing. “It’s been great, though. Have fun in Egypt.”

“Until we meet again,” said Serach bat Asher, which didn’t strike Crowley as strange for a full week afterward.

* * *

1\. He’d taken the credit in his report, naturally.↩

**Author's Note:**

> Serach bat Asher is mentioned by name in Genesis and the Book of Numbers, and appears in rather more detail in Midrash.
> 
> I have taken liberties with the translation of Serach's chant in order to keep the rhyming couplet structure of the original. 
> 
> Glossary of Hebrew Names:
> 
> Yaakov: Jacob
> 
> Yosep: Joseph
> 
> Happy Purim!


End file.
